I went on a walk yesterday. It was meant to be a hike, a hike to stay at the top of Mt. Wilkinson and get the f*ck away from the pressure of this place. But we didn't have enough water. So we walked I think 1/4th of the way, and sat there talking about things on a sleeping bag on top of the dry weeds. Probably there were snake nests below us.
Then we came down to a clearing, next to the shiva shrine. From there I could talk about things, and literally let out whatever my chest was generating inside me beyond the air I exhaled. And I talked to my friend about how I felt. Drained, exhausted, left at point zero. Powerless. Buzz lightyear finally exhausted his batteries, or maybe someone just pulled him by the string in his back. There were two snake skins next to the place where we were laying, and there was the sky above us. The moon was nowhere to be found, maybe she was also hiding because she didn't know what to do. I stayed on the ground looking at the star, and I told my friend that one of the reasons I was keen on getting my glasses was because I couldn't see the stars without them.
I was laying on top of the sleeping bag, looking at whatever my eyes were perceiving in that blinding darkness because the moon refused to shed light on me. I was pouring words and feelings out. But the feelings kept coming back, I was a sacred elixir that never emptied its carry. Finally he asked me to close my eyes and focus, and I felt all those feelings were in my forehead. Then I was asked to give those feelings a color. I felt like I was looking at water from below the surface. When the little waves crashed against each other, they turned black as they came back. The right side of the water was green, the other side was yellow; so no, I couldn't pick a single color, since the colors were as complex as the knot I had created inside and around me. I was also asked to give a texture, but I couldn't find the words to explain I feeling I had when I touched the essence of that feeling, even if I saw a hand dipping into it and feeling it amongst the tips of its fingers.
Then my friend asked me to sit straight, and close my eyes again, and think of my favorite place in the world. My thoughts went to my aunts' house, but I remembered that when I've been there it's because I've needed to get away from problems, not because there were no problems at all. So I went backwards, way far in time and memories, and I found my little room. The room where I used to play with building bricks which were red and blue and green and yellow. That was my space where nothing else mattered, and there were no problems till the day the black came into my life as an inkload.
In there, I saw my forehead filled with this liquid, which was now white. My forehead was filled with the liquid, and I saw it being slowly drained, like a thick milk through my cheeks to my arms and out through the tips of my fingers inside my fists. It was dripping into the grass, because I couldn't feel the sleeping bag anymore. I was empty for a second, and then I was asked to think of another liquid, a nicer one, and I thought of a slightly greenish water, almost like the one you would use to make bubbles. Light as a tea but with a slightly artificial color. I imagined the liquid filling my forehead and even the channels till the tip of my fingers.
And I opened my eyes.
And my friend was still there, sitting on his backpack, and I could almost completely describe his outline in the dark, because the moon wasn't there.
Then we came down to a clearing, next to the shiva shrine. From there I could talk about things, and literally let out whatever my chest was generating inside me beyond the air I exhaled. And I talked to my friend about how I felt. Drained, exhausted, left at point zero. Powerless. Buzz lightyear finally exhausted his batteries, or maybe someone just pulled him by the string in his back. There were two snake skins next to the place where we were laying, and there was the sky above us. The moon was nowhere to be found, maybe she was also hiding because she didn't know what to do. I stayed on the ground looking at the star, and I told my friend that one of the reasons I was keen on getting my glasses was because I couldn't see the stars without them.
I was laying on top of the sleeping bag, looking at whatever my eyes were perceiving in that blinding darkness because the moon refused to shed light on me. I was pouring words and feelings out. But the feelings kept coming back, I was a sacred elixir that never emptied its carry. Finally he asked me to close my eyes and focus, and I felt all those feelings were in my forehead. Then I was asked to give those feelings a color. I felt like I was looking at water from below the surface. When the little waves crashed against each other, they turned black as they came back. The right side of the water was green, the other side was yellow; so no, I couldn't pick a single color, since the colors were as complex as the knot I had created inside and around me. I was also asked to give a texture, but I couldn't find the words to explain I feeling I had when I touched the essence of that feeling, even if I saw a hand dipping into it and feeling it amongst the tips of its fingers.
Then my friend asked me to sit straight, and close my eyes again, and think of my favorite place in the world. My thoughts went to my aunts' house, but I remembered that when I've been there it's because I've needed to get away from problems, not because there were no problems at all. So I went backwards, way far in time and memories, and I found my little room. The room where I used to play with building bricks which were red and blue and green and yellow. That was my space where nothing else mattered, and there were no problems till the day the black came into my life as an inkload.
In there, I saw my forehead filled with this liquid, which was now white. My forehead was filled with the liquid, and I saw it being slowly drained, like a thick milk through my cheeks to my arms and out through the tips of my fingers inside my fists. It was dripping into the grass, because I couldn't feel the sleeping bag anymore. I was empty for a second, and then I was asked to think of another liquid, a nicer one, and I thought of a slightly greenish water, almost like the one you would use to make bubbles. Light as a tea but with a slightly artificial color. I imagined the liquid filling my forehead and even the channels till the tip of my fingers.
And I opened my eyes.
And my friend was still there, sitting on his backpack, and I could almost completely describe his outline in the dark, because the moon wasn't there.
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